Snapshots
by CanaanAlshea
Summary: Malik Likes To Take Pictures. Bakura Indulges.


_**Title: Snapshots **_  
_**Author: Yoko-cw **_  
_**Summary: Malik Likes To Take Pictures. Bakura Indulges.**_

"Hey, Bakura, over here! Smile!" I sighed, but obeyed, flashing the tanned boy a grin as the shutter went off noisily. I saw the lens move and he grinned at me, taking the huge camera from his face and letting it hang from his neck again. "Thanks again." I nodded, stretching my legs out in front of me, using the shade of the giant oak that guarded the library, "No problem. Come sit with me, Neshama (1)." He flashed that bright smile, throwing the red and orange leaves in the air on his way over, plopping down on my chest to watch them fall. "Isn't it cool, Bakura?" he murmured, "How different the seasons are here?" I smiled, burying my nose in his platinum hair and inhaling the light almond scent of his conditioner. "Things are always amazing to you, aren't they?" He looked up at me, all grins and endearing energy, "Everything is beautiful when you've seen nothing." I smiled softly, knowing he referred to how little he saw, growing up in a tomb. Everything was amazing to him because he knew what it would be like to lost it. To be lost in darkness. I held him closer and smiled as he took our picture. "Yes," I smiled, "It is beautiful."

"Bakura, Bakura look!" I laughed, hoisting my bag higher up on my shoulder for the millionth time as we stopped for the hundredth time. "Yes, Malik?" He was looking down at his leather glove, lilac eyes wide and glittering with joy. "Look at it, Bakura! It's just like they make it look in the books, on the television!" I rolled my eyes, grinning as I leaned down, pretending not to know that, if one looked closely enough, you could see the actual shapes of snowflakes. "Yes," I nodded, "It is beautiful. Now can we get home before I freeze?" I ruffled his hair to show I wasn't too serious; after all, I had grown up borrowing Ryou's body; I'd seen too many winters and had even grown to dislike them.

But Malik had never seen the snow before. He laughed, spinning the lens to focus, capturing the pattern. Click. Click.

"Bakura! What is this?" I smiled and looked over my shoulder again (for he was eternally five steps behind me), to see him peering in through the window, hand hovering to touch but hesitating, "That," he murmered, "What is it?" I came up behind him, shaking snow out of my hair and resting my chin on his shoulder, "That's a Christmas tree," I said quietly, "It's really an American custom but it's been adopted here as a commercial sales techni-" "Can we have one?" As usual, my explanation was cut off by his excitement. I looked at it, watched how the changing colors of the lights reflected off his tan skin and, I knew I couldn't say no. "Sure," I stole a kiss, "But next month, okay? They'll be cheaper then. Heck we can even have Ryou over to explain how the hell to decorate the thing because I've never done it before." He smiled, peeling his gloves off and holding my face in his hands, "Thank you. I love you, Bakura." He leaned in and kissed me softly. I felt a little warmer.

It was a small thing, but...Malik had never slept on a mattress before. In the tomb they slept on stone slabs, not knowing any better. When they moved to Japan, his family slept on tatami mats on the floor, not sure about the material filled things that everyone else seemed so keen on. Ishizu and Odion had eventually purchased futons but Malik...he was stubborn. For the one who wanted to leave, he had not dealt with all the change very well.

"It's...weird," Malik pushed his fingers against the mattress, feeling the resistance and the feeling of the springs beneath. "And you sleep on these, these metal coils?" I laughed, slipping my hand over his and bringing the dry, smooth palms to my lips, "It doesn't sound so nice, hearing it come from you," the boy blushed, "But yes, westerners sleep on them. Almost all of them do, actually." I hopped onto it, bouncing a bit and smiling to him, "Come on, you'll love it." Malik raised an eyebrow, not sure how one could *like* sleeping on metal. His skepticism was adorable.

He grinned as he laid down, pulling the quilt over his face and muffling his own laughter, "How absurd that something like this would be so nice!" He popped out from under the blanket, grinning. I kissed his cheeks, his nose, his soft lips, "I knew you'd love it."

At the summer fair, my blonde egyptian tried cotton candy for the first time. He got the usual stares from people, strangers who weren't used to seeing hyperactive teenage boys with platinum hair and heavy golden jewelry. He either didn't notice, or didn't care. Funny, how having all that rage vanish had left him somewhat ordinary. I laced my fingers with his, certain he would lead us everywhere before I even knew where we were to begin with. His energy, while endearing, was not contagious. "Bakura," he paused and cocked his head, poking a plastic bag with his fingertips, "Is this..." he laughed, overjoyed that he recognized something so strange, "Is this attic insulation? The kind that makes you itch? Why on earth would they sell it here?" He looked at me, expecting answers always. "Cotton candy," I nodded to the man making it, "Spun sugar. It's a type of candy that melts when it comes into contact with heat. Wanna try it?" He wrinkled his nose, "It sounds...nauseating." The woman making it looked Malik up and down and then smiled at us, "Would you like to try some, hun?" she said with a light accent. I smiled and nodded, handing the fluffy candy to my egyptian. He stared at it, then popped it into his mouth. Violet eyes grew huge and he grinned, "It vanished!" The woman laughed, handing him a bag and holding up her hand when he reached for his wallet, "My pleasure, dear," she said with a wink, "To introduce someone to one of my favorite treats."

He was calmer on the ferris wheel. He held his bag of cotton candy with both hands, gently, as a child holds a new toy. He smiled and looked out onto the fair, seeing all the lights come on, all the games beeping and screaming. "It's amazing, 'Kura, it really is," he said quietly, "All the lights and people...there's so much energy here." He spoke quietly as we paused at the top, our basket swinging gently. I grinned as he handed me his bag of confectionary and snapped several pictures at the carnival from up high. I kissed him when he turned back to me, popping a bit of cotton candy in my mouth to melt between us.

There was a picture of me in what he called the Album Room. I was under a cherry blossom tree, sneezing and brushing petals out of my hair.

I smiled as I looked at his memories, things he wanted to desperately to cling to. There were pictures of Yugi and his group. My hikari especially. Ryou had done wonders in easing Malik's passage into school. In his room, there were pictures tacked neatly up on the walls. Rows and rows of memories to create an ever growing wallpaper. People we knew, strangers that had caught his eye, clothing he found particularly bizarre. Things he wanted, things he hated. His brother and sister, grinning faces never growing exasperated even as they aged along the wall. Because Malik's fascination with the world never waned. I traced my hikari's face several times, watching him grow up in seconds. I saw pictures of Malik that others had given him; pictures of him on his first day of school, looking worried but trying to conceal it with annoyance. One of him nervously smiling when Yugi welcomed him to Domino. And on that wall, I saw him grow into himself bit by bit, his confidence blossoming with each season that went by. When he learned that maybe not everyone is out to get you.

I smiled and traced his face in a picture of us, our faces grinning and smashed together in the small frame. Another one, us at the arcade, me rolling my eyes as Malik looked past whoever was taking the picture while grabbing my arm and pointing at something. He on my lap, my arms around his waist, sharing a gentle kiss. We're grinning against each others lips, happy and laughing as our friends playfully mock us for being unusually affectionate.

The smile fades as I look at them all closely. The group of them...they all grew taller. They grew out of their baby fat, graduated from high school, grew into ever changing personalities to eventually settle down into who they truly were. Except for me, except for Atemu. We stay the same. We don't get taller, we don't age...we grow, change, live and breathe but...we'll never wither away. Not like real people.

Sadly, I trace his face. Ishizu's chin rests on his crown and he looks up at her, laughing, full of life. I want to remember him, just like this.

Even if one day...he won't be here anymore...

"Ne, Bakura..." Malik hands me a cup of iced coffee, brushing lawn clippings off of the park bench to sit next to me, "You okay? You seem really deep in thought." I smile, brush bright bangs out of his eyes, "Yes. I'm just thinking." His brows knit together, concern etching delicate features, "Yeah? What about, so seriously?"

I smile, taking a picture of him as he stares, innocently chewing on his straw as he sips the coffee.

"Us, baby," I put the camera down on the other side of him, taking his free hand and kissing his mouth softly, "Just us."

END

_1: Neshama, hebrew -soul; (endearment) darling_


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